


Rite of Movement

by usasarah



Series: Move Me [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Order 66 Happened Differently (Star Wars), Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usasarah/pseuds/usasarah
Summary: Obi-Wan has become a hindrance to Palpatine’s scheme to destroy the Republic and secure young Skywalker as his apprentice. Activating the 212th’s chip early and executing Order 66 should resolve him of the problem.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Move Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088969
Comments: 112
Kudos: 455





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> yo, please mind the tags :)
> 
> if you are concerned about the threat of rape/non-con, I will warn you when it specifically comes and it will be minimal 
> 
> If you know me, you know that I love angst and hurt (with eventual comfort and happy ending!!)
> 
> You do not need to read the first parts to read this but will be more appreciated if you do!!
> 
> Aiming for 4 chapters (maybe 3), next part in this series will be fluff (heats, pups!), but for now it will be angsty :)

The whole mess began with a truth serum. 

They were running incredibly low on not only fuel for their starfighters and other battleships but on medical supplies as well. Their operations on the Outer Rim had once again been prolonged by the Separatist fleet, so their routine scheduled rendezvous with a medical supply ship had unfortunately not occured. 

Dantooine was the closest planet where they would be able to acquire both, and from what they had assumed (wrongly), friendly enough that there should be little problems. 

Of course, there was trouble. 

“A  _ truth _ serum?” Obi-Wan repeated incredulously, hardly believing Cody’s words.

The two of them hurried through the halls of the  _ Resolute _ towards the medical bay. Obi-Wan had headed a team to secure fuel from a lone Republic base on the green planet while Ahsoka and Anakin were tasked with meeting with a supplier for the medical equipment. 

Apparently, they had been intercepted by a group allied with the Separatists. How this group had discovered their whereabouts remained a mystery, but their M.O was abundantly clear. They had set out to capture the Jedi Knight and padawan and deliver them to Separatists forces in exchange for a handsome sum of money. 

Ultimately, they didn’t succeed, but while Anakin and Ahsoka were in their clutches before Rex and others came to their rescue, the group had decided to extract some information first with the use of a truth serum. 

“Yes, sir. A truth serum according to Captain Rex’s initial report. It was only administered to General Skywalker however,” his Commander confirmed. 

“Was any confidential information or intelligence given up?” 

Cody shook his head just as they turned the corner towards where the medical bay was located.  _ That was a relief.  _

“Sir, I should warn you though. Rex is saying that—”

Obi-Wan didn’t allow for the man to finish, much too worried about Anakin and his grand-padwan to hesitate. When the door hissed open, he was greeted by Ahsoka’s rambunctious and ill-contained laughter. 

The Jedi Master’s frantic pace slowed as he stepped inside, Cody at his shoulder, while he surveyed the situation. Ahsoka was clutching her stomach, doubled over in what appeared to be a painful and almost hysterical laughing fit. Those around her didn’t look to be faring much better. Rex was attempting to hide his wide smile behind a hand, and Kix was softly chuckling as he took Anakin’s vitals. 

_ Anakin.  _

Finally, the nervous fluttering of Obi-Wan’s heart settled at the sight of his Alpha. He looked a little roughed up, hair disheveled and a dark bruise blossoming across the right side of his jaw, but mostly unscathed. 

“Skyguy, I think if Master Windu  _ ever _ heard you say that, you’d be expelled,” the young beta gasped. 

“I honestly couldn't care less what  _ fucking Master Windu _ thought. The man has been jealous of me since I was nine, probably because I’m the ‘Chosen One’ and didn’t go bald by the time I turned twenty.”

Ahsoka looked like she would collapse any second. 

“If I remember correctly,” Obi-Wan said, all eyes suddenly turning towards him, “Master Windu lost his hair in his thirties, not twenties.”

“General,” Kix and Rex greeted simultaneously, trying and failing to regain their composure.

He nodded his head in acknowledgment, coming closer to Anakin’s side. His former padawan was sitting on the edge of bed, lips carefully pursed, no doubt terrified of what he would say next.

“Kix, how does a truth serum work?” Obi-Wan curiously asked. 

The medic cleared his throat. “It simultaneously works as a hypnotic and sedative drug that lowers inhibitions and rationale while heightening trust and relaxation in the target. What occurs then is a patient who is...entirely too comfortable and not able to exercise restraint when asked questions.”

“It’s genius!” Ahsoka exclaimed. “Master,  _ please  _ tell me how I’m such a great padawan.”

“Perhaps, we shouldn’t—”

“Ahsoka, having you as my apprentice is one of the greatest things to happen to me during the shitty war. You drive me absolutely crazy because you remind me so much of myself when I was a padawan, but I believe you have the potential to become one of the greatest Knights in the Order, and I am so incredibly proud of you.”

Ahsoka’s laughter finally died off, awestruck by the shockingly sentimental words. Now Obi-Wan was softly laughing as Anakin’s face burned with a furious blush. 

“Aw, Master,” Ahsoka softly said, a hint of teasing still lacing her voice. She wrapped Anakin in an enormous hug, and the Jedi Knight reluctantly accepted the affection. 

“Kix, please tell me this won’t last long,” Anakin pleaded, and he truly looked worried. 

“Should last no more than a day, sir,” Kix replied. “Just make sure you drink lots of fluids. How are you feeling?”

“I’m incredibly embarrassed, but I’m feeling much better now that Obi-Wan is here.”

Cody snorted, and Obi-Wan, who was now also blushing, threw him a look. Ahsoka dissolved back into another fit of giggles. 

“I didn’t believe that truth serums even existed,” Obi-Wan admitted, attempting to change the conversation. “There has always been rumors about them on the black market, but I’ve never seen its effects in person. We should take blood samples, so the Temple can analyze.”

Kik nodded, grabbing a vial and syringe. Anakin groaned. 

“I think we should use this once in a lifetime opportunity to obtain prime blackmail material,” Ahsoka said, a devious glint in her eyes. A plot was conjuring in that creative mind of hers. 

“That sounds like an awful idea,” Anakin said. 

“I would have to concur,” Obi-Wan agreed. 

Ahsoka placed her hands on her hips. “Oh come on, Master Kenobi. You cannot tell me that you aren’t curious about what secrets Skyguy is keeping from you.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I don’t believe that Anakin is keeping any secrets from me.” 

And that might have been a naïve thing to believe, but he did believe it. The only “secret” that he knew his former padawan had kept from him was about his feelings for Senator Amidala, but infatuation and even casual sex are not forbidden by the Code, only attachment, so while for a time, he did believe that Anakin and  Padmé were in a dedicated and serious relationship, he was proven wrong. 

He would be proven wrong again. 

“I have been keeping a secret.” 

Obi-Wan felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out the room, but Ahsoka appeared giddy. Anakin looked sick. The Jedi Master did not believe this was something he would want to hear. 

“You don’t have to —” Obi-Wan began, but it was too late, and words were pouring forth, awful, angry, but guilty words as Anakin confessed to slaughtering an entire tribe of Tusken Raiders, women and children included, after he held his mother had died in his arms. 

There was nothing they could do besides stand and listen to the horrifying tale, and when he had finished, it actually felt like there was no air to breathe, and that another word would shatter the fragile atmosphere. 

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered.

For once in his life, Obi-Wan did not know what to say. Everyone else was frozen, and he knew this was  _ not _ a conversation the two of them should be having in front of others. 

“Ahsoka, head down to the hangar and help the men with fueling the starfighters. Rex, Cody, please contact Master Secura, and develop a timetable for when we should rendezvous with her for our next mission.”

The three of them went without any word, Ahsoka, with her head bowed, no doubt regretting her pushing. Obi-Wan couldn’t blame her; she had no idea that a secret so heavy was weighing over her Master. Even Obi-Wan was caught off guard, struggling to fully comprehend the severity of the situation. 

After the three of them left, it was only Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Kix. Kix quickly finished taking Anakin’s blood and walked over towards the corner of the room, where he was silently labelling and storing the vials. 

“Please say something,” his former padawan said, and Obi-Wan took the time to truly study Anakin. 

His furious blush was now a sickly, pallid color, and his broad shoulders were hunched over, attempting to make himself appear small. Obi-Wan wanted to comfort the younger man and soothe his worries, but violent images of Anakin raising his saber in hatred with darkness encircling him flashed before him. 

Still, he reached out a brushed a golden wave behind his ear. 

“I don’t want to have this conversation now when you are like this. It’s unfair to you. We will talk about this whenever we are recalled back to Coruscant. I will assure that Ahsoka, Rex, Cody, and Kix understand that nothing said here leaves this room.”

Anakin mutely nodded, and reached out towards Obi-Wan, to take his hand, to pull him into an embrace, or perhaps just to touch him, he didn’t know. He stepped away, trying his best to ignore the sharp pang of hurt reverberating through their bond. 

He had been naïve. 

_ I’ve been most tempted by the dark when I try to follow the Code, Master. _

That’s what Anakin had told him not too long ago. He was so stupid to believe that it was nothing more than a temptation, and that he himself was enough to keep Anakin anchored to the light. Anakin hadn’t been simply tempted by the dark, he had brushed alongside it, dipped his toes into the fear and anger that the dark offered. 

“Just one more thing...would you have ever told me if you didn’t have to?”

Anakin swallowed as if he was trying to force the words back, but the truth serum was too strong. 

“I don’t know.”

Obi-Wan was a failure. 

He left Anakin there, too much of a coward to look in the eyes of the one he failed the most, and pulled his shields close. 

They were on the front lines for two more excruciating weeks.

They had joined Aayla Secura and her 327th Star Corps in the Yavin System to defend Hydian Way, a primary hyperspace route that was connected to several other routes, including the Pinooran Spur, the Yavin Bypass, and the Junction-Tierell Loop. All routes were critical to the movement of the Republic troops, so of course, the Separatists directed their forces there. 

The battle was made worse by intricate weapon systems that the Separatists had set up on several of Yavin Prime’s twenty-six moons that were capable of firing into deep space. Even with three battalions, they were stretched thin. 

After too many lives lost and ships destroyed, they were able to destroy the weapon systems and send the Separatist fleet in a retreat. 

In between all the firefights, battles, and meetings, Obi-Wan spent every waking moment thinking about Anakin and what do when they arrived back to Coruscant. He lost hours of sleep, tossing and turning, frightened by nightmares of his Alpha with sickly yellow eyes, holding a bleeding red saber. 

Anakin didn’t try to reach out to him, sensing his firm shields, but Obi-Wan felt his lingering stares and his prodding Force signature. 

By the time they arrived back at the Temple, both him and Anakin were in wretched moods. Only Ahsoka seemed to be doing well. He would need to talk to her as well after Anakin and he had their much needed conversation, but the Togruta girl seemed back to her normal self. She still viewed her Master with rose-colored glasses and perhaps could not entirely fathom how darkness could cling so closely to Anakin. 

He meant to pull the Alpha aside right away, but Anakin disappeared without a word, so Obi-Wan followed Ahsoka and decided to wait in Anakin’s and her own shared messy quarters. Thankfully, Ahsoka soon disappeared, probably sensing that the Jedi Master needed and wanted to be alone as he confronted Anakin. 

It was already evening when they arrived at the Temple, and after an hour of waiting, he drifted into a shallow and unsteady sleep on the couch. 

He awoke with a start when the door hissed open. It was dark out. He had no idea how much time had passed. 

“Ahsoka?” he called out, rubbing his bleary eyes. 

“No, it’s me,” Anakin’s deep voice responded, turning on the lights. 

Obi-Wan hastily sat up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his Jedi robes. Anakin remained by the door as if he were caged in by Obi-Wan’s presence. 

“Is Ahsoka here?”

“No, she’s not. It’s just us.”

Anakin nodded, slowly slipping off his black robe and laying it over a nearby chair. 

“Where were you, Anakin?”

His former padawan shrugged. “Went for a walk,” he said cryptically, and Obi-Wan suddenly wished for the truth serum, knowing that squeezing honesty out of Anakin when he was closed off like this was next to impossible. 

“An awfully long walk, wasn’t it?”

Another heavy beat of silence. 

“I visited the Senate.”

“To talk to Padmé?”

“No, the Chancellor.”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue, knowing that he had to exercise extreme patience. He had less than positive feelings towards Chancellor Palpetine, and always had to practice caution when Anakin brought up his...friend. Obi-Wan didn’t like politicians in general, but Palpatine had a certain aura that sent shivers crawling up his spine and curling around his throat. 

“What did you two talk about?”

Anakin scoffed. “Obi-Wan, do you honestly care?”

The Omega did his best to mask his flinch, but Anakin noticed it anyway. He began pacing around the small living room, running his gloved hand through his hair.

“I-I’m — _ Force _ —all I want is for you to tell me what you’ve been thinking these past couple weeks. I am almost  _ sick _ , thinking...thinking that I’ve ruined something great, that you will shut me out forever, Obi-Wan, and I can’t—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Obi-Wan hushed, settling both hands on Anakin’s broad shoulders, stilling him. “Anakin, I need you to listen carefully.”

The Alpha was restless however, unable to meet Obi-Wan’s soft blue eyes, so the Omega gently lowered his shields, flooding their Force bond with warmth and love, and instantly Anakin relaxed. 

“It truly terrifies me, Anakin, that I don’t think there is anything you could do that could make me stop loving you.”

_ This _ was the danger of attachment, the other side of the coin. On one side, was love, fondness, and dedication, but it was shadowed by an almost blinding faith. 

Anakin finally met his eyes. 

“But, that does not mean I can overlook what you’ve done, dear one. You’ve allowed darkness to enter your heart and inflicted harm on those undeserving, and I know you were hurting, and I’m sorry I was not there when you obviously needed me most.”

After the Battle of Geonosis, when his padawan had told him of his mother’s kidnapping and murder, he hadn’t asked many questions and now regrets his actions. Had Anakin not felt like he could go to him? His failure stretched farther than he thought. 

He let go of Anakin, choosing his next words carefully.

“Not many have come back from such a close entanglement with the dark side of the Force, and I believe that means something.”

“Are you going to turn me into the Council?”

“I am not going to ‘turn you in’ to anyone, but I will not only  _ implore  _ you to speak to Master Yoda on this topic, but also  _ beg _ that you seek out one of the mind healers."

He expected kicking and groaning from his former padawan so was surprised when there was none, only Anakin hanging his head in resignation. “I will, Master.”

“You must know that I’m extremely disappointed.”

Anakin wilted like a dying flower. “I know.”

Obi-Wan had nothing else to say, and they stood there chest to chest for a long moment before tentatively, the Alpha reached out, taking the Omega’s hand in his and squeezing softly. 

“Will you stay the night?”

Obi-Wan glanced towards the door. “Ahsoka should be coming back any minute.”

Anakin squeezed his hand harder. “I’m not asking for...anything. I just wish to not be far from you. I miss holding you.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Okay. I will stay”

  
  
  


Sheev Palpatine was silently fuming. 

A wrench had been thrown into his carefully crafted plans. He had been practically feeding Skywalker poison, sowing doubt and fears into his connection to the Jedi Order, nursing his growing hatred and doubt. 

And now, Skywalker had dragged himself through Palpatine’s office, weepy, downcast, and whining like a kicked puppy. 

The young Jedi would not stop moaning about his dear Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Palpatine was sickened by the love and affection that Anakin so obviously held for his Master. 

“What exactly is your relationship with Kenobi?” Sheev had asked cautiously, knowing that the question would be strange coming from him, but he  _ had to know.  _

Skywalker seemed uncomfortable at first but answered truthfully. “Few know, and I would like to keep it that way, but you are one of my closest confidants, Chancellor. After the war, I plan to convince the Council to change the Code to allow attachments, and if they refuse, then I will leave, as will Obi-Wan I hope. I am going to make him mate.”

_ Mate. _

That was no good. No, it simply could not happen. 

Kenobi was the paragon of Jedi virtue. He was so deeply infused in the light that it basically shot out of his ass. 

He fumed the entire night; the future of his Galactic Empire turning gray around the edges. However, when the new day dawned, a fresher outlook rose with it. 

There would be no fall of Skywalker as long as Kenobi existed, but he would secure Skywalker as his new Sith apprentice. He would have his Empire. 

Kenobi would have to go.

And if he orchestrated the Jedi Master’s demise just so, Skywalker would blame the Order and the Council. His fall towards the darkside would be inevitable, if anything it would accelerate. 

Darth Sidious chuckled to himself darkly. 

There were plenty of pretty Omegas in the Galaxy that his future apprentice could have his pick of, multiple if he truly desired. The loss of Kenobi would hurt for a while, long enough for him to turn his back on the Jedi, but he would get over it. 

Kenobi was nothing special. 

Sidious had just the perfect way to rid himself of the pesky hindrance, and it would give him an opportunity to test his final play. 

First, he would have Darth Tyranus construct a situation that called for the assistance of none other than the Negotiator himself. He had already assured that Skywalker would stay at Coruscant for some time, asking him to be his escort for several high-profile conventions. 

Yes, yes, Kenobi had always been incredibly annoying, but  activating the 212th’s behavioral modification biochip early and executing Order 66 should resolve him of the problem. 

  
  
  


“The Galidraan system, now?!”

“Yes, Anakin.”

He had just conferenced with the Council, and he had been unfortunately tasked with yet another mission, much sooner than he had hoped for. 

“But Master Obi-Wan, you haven’t gone on a mission without us in ages!” Ahsoka exclaimed. 

Obi-Wan laughed. “That might be an exaggeration, little one. The war stops for no one, and Anakin here will be too busy entertaining politicians, giving you the ample time to catch up on your studies. The 212th will be perfectly fine without the assistance of the 501st.”

“I don’t like it,” Anakin said, a second away from pouting. “Galidraan is on the edge of the Outer Rim, and there is little known about that area.”

“Perhaps that is why Count Dooku chose that system to base his operations.”

Anakin’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “You are looking for Count Dooku? You will definitely need backup. I’ll tell the Chancellor that I am unable to escort him.”

“Slow down, Anakin. We will simply be conducting reconnaissance and scans of the system to confirm if the preliminary reports are accurate.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Anakin —”

“I agree with Skyguy, Master.” Ahsoka rubbed her arms as if soothing away chills. “Something about this seems off. I have a bad feeling.”

“No, mission goes how we expect, but Cody will have my back.”

Obi-Wan glanced at the chronometer. “I should be going soon.”

All three stood there for a tense moment before Anakin’s gaze slowly fell on his padawan. She looked at him quizzically before it dawned on her. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave you two at it then. I’ll go read a book or something in my room. See you later, Master Obi-Wan!”

When Ahsoka had finally left the two of them alone, Anakin swept the Omega into his arms in an almost painful embrace. Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of weakness and nuzzled his nose into his Alpha’s scent glands, deeply breathing in the scent of petrichor, knowing he wouldn’t be comforted by the smell for weeks. 

They held onto each other for a long time. 

“I talked to Master Yoda,” Anakin said into Obi-Wan’s ginger hair. 

Obi-Wan pulled back just enough to look up at his future mate. “How did it go?”

“We talked for a long time, and he said lots of what you already told me. He thought it was good that I would be escorting the Chancellor because it would give me some time away from the front lines to recover...mentally. I’m going to see a mind healer tomorrow.”

“Good, Anakin. I’m proud of you.”

“Yesterday, you said you were disappointed in me.”

“I’m proud of the fact that you are doing what you need to do to make sure something like this never happens again. What you have done isn’t easily forgettable, and you know that more than anyone else. I can tell this has been weighing on you for a while.”

Anakin nodded. “I never want to disappoint you again.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Just be honest with me from now on, dear one. That’s all I want.”

They held each other for longer, as long as they could, before the Jedi Master’s comlink was beeping and he was being pulled to the opposite side of the Galaxy. 

  
  
  
  


Anakin was correct. The  Galidraan system was essentially beyond the Outer Rim, and the only known route was long, winding, and cluttered, making travel even longer. They had been in hyperspace for two days and had two more days before they reached their destination. 

There was not much prep to do for recon missions, so unusually the 212th had plenty of down time, and Obi-Wan used most of it deep in meditation. The  _ Negotiator _ was fortunately equipped with a small circular meditation room, all white, with dim lighting, and furnished with a few scattered pillows and blankets. 

He had never been able to take advantage of the meditation room before, but he was glad for its existence now. 

Ahsoka was also somewhat correct. It certainly felt like ages since the last time he went on a mission without the accompaniment of his former padawan, grand-padawan, and the rest of the 501st. He loved his 212th, but he was feeling the loss, especially the loss of Anakin’s presence. 

Meditation allowed for him to center himself in the Force and despite the overwhelming distance, he could still somewhat grasp at their Force signatures if he relaxed enough, and that was enough to settle him. 

In addition, the configuration of the meditation room almost echoed the comfort of a nest, warm and encompassing. The suppressants had all but squashed his instincts to nest, but lately he had found himself desiring the comfort more and more, particularly since his Alpha gifted him with that nesting blanket. 

He almost wished he had brought the blanket with him for the thing almost  _ reeked _ of not only Anakin’s scent but his own natural one because the Alpha had been so adamant about fucking him on it. 

The meditation room would have to do. 

Obi-Wan was startled however when the door to the room hissed open, and Cody stiffly walked in. 

“Oh, Cody, hello. Is there something you need?”

Any of the troops were welcomed to use the meditation rooms, but they often preferred the recreation rooms to unwind as meditation was a technique not taught on Kamino. 

Cody remained in the doorway, oddly looking a little lost as if he couldn’t remember why he was here in the first place. The man was dressed in his full armor, helmet tucked under his arm, instead of his blacks which was also a little strange, but Obi-Wan had no reason to question it. 

When Cody still didn’t answer, Obi-Wan took it upon himself to welcome his friend into the meditation room, motioning for him to sit across. 

“Please feel free to join me. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t realize you enjoy meditating as well.”

Cody nodded, setting down his helmet and blaster, before sitting. Obi-Wan smiled. He enjoyed his Commander’s company. The man was stoic, steady, and trustworthy, his Force signature always exuding a sure and strong presence. 

The Omega allowed for his eyes to fall shut once more, attempting to slow his breath down to a slow and deep pace.

Perhaps if he wasn’t meditating and seeking for peace within the Force, he would have more quickly felt the Force screaming at him, warning him of a coming disturbance. 

He didn’t feel the danger until the cold metal barrel of Cody’s blaster was pressing against his forehead, and icy words were saying, “You’re a traitor, General.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for violence, enjoy :)
> 
> \+ super pumped that "Somethings So Flawed and Freed" now has over 1000 kudos, and this fic has over 100, thank you!!!

Obi-Wan had half the mind to dive out the way, throwing his body towards his discarded lightsaber, igniting it and rolling to his feet. The blaster bolts that were aimed for his head hit the wall behind him instead, singing the white walls. He’s almost unable to tear his eyes away from the two burning holes; the knowledge that if he had hesitated for a second more, it would have been his brains decorating the walls was surreal.

But then Cody was jumping to his feet as well, firing his blaster again in quick succession. The meditation room was small, perhaps fifteen feet wide, and the closeness made it incredibly difficult to deflect the blasts.

“Cody!” he yells when his brain was finally capable of forming words again. “What do you think you are doing?!”

The Commander closed the distance briefly to better corner the Jedi, but Obi-Wan managed to slash a wide arc in front of him, not close enough to even graze the other man, but it served as a warning, and Cody jumped back and continued firing.

Obi-Wan did his best to deflect the rapid assault of the blaster bolts as they began to circle each other, each analyzing the other for openings and vulnerabilities. Cody did his best to dodge the deflections as well, but when one bolt repelled off Obi-Wan’s blue saber and whizzed past his friend’s head, he knew he couldn’t keep this up.

He couldn’t hurt Cody, nevertheless kill him. He needed to get his Commander to stand down, so he could figure out what in the world was going on. A traitor is what Cody had called him...how and why?

Not wasting a second more, the Jedi Master lunged forward, a reckless move that had a blaster bolt singing the sleeve of his robe so hot it nearly burned his skin, but brought him close enough to slice at the barrel of the blaster pistol.

The barrel flopped to the floor unceremonsily, but it didn’t deter Cody for a second. Now that the Omega was so close, he sent a well placed kick to the saber’s hilt, sending the weapon flying across the room.

“Cody, let’s not do this,” Obi-Wan pleaded, now that they were both disarmed. “We’ll sort out whatever this is.”

Cody was unfortunately not a man of diplomacy, quite literally made to fight and follow orders. However, it seemed he was only capable of the former because none of Obi-Wan’s words appeared to have any effect.

The Commander tackled the smaller man to the ground, and the air was violently knocked out of Obi-Wan’s lungs.

He vehemently wished that the Order had taught him more hand-to-hand combat and that he had actually paid more attention in the sparse lessons. He was a Jedi! They had the Force and their sabers. He hardly ever had to resort to his fists.

Cody had almost three inches on him and quite a few more pounds of muscle. He was already at a disadvantage as they grappled on the floor for control.

There was an elbow to his temple, disorienting him and sending black spots swimming across his vision, and then there were two large and rough hands wrapping around his throat and squeezing.

“ _Cody_ ,” Obi-Wan wheezed, clawing at his friend’s forearms and attempting to knee him in the gut, groin, anywhere, that would give him reprieve.

It was futile. As the Jedi struggled for air, Cody was able to fully maneuver himself on top of Obi-Wan, half straddling him with one knee digging into his chest, pinning him.

Obi-Wan had always known asphyxiation to be a laborious affair, requiring one’s full strength to quite literally ripe the life out from another. Pressure on his carotid arteries had halted the blood to his brain, sending a unique kind of pain zapping down his neck and blooming under his eyes. He doesn’t even realize that his vision had begun to bleed red because with the combined force on his windpipe, it took less than sixty seconds before panic seized him.

And the irony was that as hypoxia settled in, as his heart began to beat wildly against his ribcage, confusion infiltrated his mind, squashing all rationale, leaving only base instinct in its wake.

Relying on instinct was not his forte, it was Anakin’s, and at the thought of his mate, his love, his only thought was— _not now, not like this._

He hadn’t even registered the Force surging in him, building up like a tidal wave, until his lightsaber slammed into the back of Cody’s head, and the man crumbled to the side in a heap, unconscious.

He laid there, gasping, trembling lungs sucking in each precious breath after the other, until his vision no longer swam and the room ceased to rotate as if it were a planet spinning uncontrollably off its axis.

Vision still tinged pink on the edges, he clambered to his feet, still much too fast, because then Obi-Wan was stumbling, world tilting and distorting, before he found purchase on the smooth white walls of the room and righted himself once more.

Each gasp for air was painful as if his chest might implode, and he didn’t dare imagine what his neck looked like.

Cody, whose face had been previously twisted with uncharastic bitterness and awfulness, was now silent, and Obi-Wan slid silently over towards the limp body, clipping his lightsaber back to his belt, and leaning down, cradling his friend’s head.

His fingers came back bloody.

Not enough for fear to grip him—two fingers to the throat revealed a strong and steady pulse—but enough to need a medic. He would have commed for one, but he knew his voice would fail him, and how best to explain this bewildering situation?

_You’re a traitor, General._

The words were ice itself, but Cody (hopefully) could explain himself when he was calm and recovered. Obi-Wan would apologize for giving him a concussion and most likely a few stitches, and his friend would apologize trying to murder him. No harm, no foul.

The door hissed open, and then Obi-Wan was trying to wave down a clone trooper, dressed head to toe in armor, from down the corridor. The trooper paused, spoke into the comlink at his arm, made a signal, and suddenly a dozen of his men, the 212th, were pouring forth from around the corner, and the Jedi knew from too many battles that they were assuming firing positions.

The Force screamed at him again, so he didn’t wait to see them raise their weapons and pull their triggers, turning on his heel and disappearing around another bend.

When the sirens began to wail, as they often did when they were under attack, and the stampeding of boots followed him, Obi-Wan knew something was fundamentally wrong.

This had not been some horrid misunderstanding.

It was a mutiny.

The betrayal stung like a hot coal at the back of his throat. He could hardly breathe, lungs still aching, as he raced down the corridors, using the Force to guide him. The whiz of the blaster bolts sang like a song in his ear, and Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber, deflecting the well aimed shots.

He could hardly focus on the clones at his back because then there were five, six, seven at his front. The Force surged once again, and Obi-Wan directed it forwards. The clones in front of him slammed against the walls and tumbled to the floor.

Obi-Wan made a sharp turn, punched in the code for the nearest door, and practically fell through, collapsing to his knees just as the door shut and he heard the clamor of the clones race past.

Boxes and cargo containers were piled high in front of him. He had stumbled in one of the Negotiator's miscellaneous storage facilities.

The lights were thankfully shut off, and Obi-Wan moved through the darkness, ducking behind the crates, the unhealthy shudder of his labored breathing breaking the silence. He needed a communication device, a holoprojector, or anything that would reach Coruscant. He needed to tell the Council—and Anakin—of this development.

The 212th had turned on him.

 _Was this the work of the Separatists? Or something even more nefarious?_ Obi-Wan was reminded of the Genosian Queen, Karina the Great, and her parasitic worms she used to infect and control her undead warriors. Were his men attacking them of their own free will or was someone higher up pulling the strings?

He suspected the latter, and that only solidified his need to approach everything with extreme caution. He didn’t know if he had it in himself to seriously harm his men, and the mere thought of striking one down was unthinkable.

He would have to do it if worse came to worse.

Regardless, he needed an escape plan.

Obi-Wan had a holoprojector in his cabin, but he surmised that was the last place on the ship he should go. The 212th, no doubt, would have the area under surveillance. The bridge was also impossible, most likely crawling with troopers.

The starfighters and freighters were each equipped with communication devices and would also allow him an escape, but travel through hyperspace dictated that the hangar remained closed and off-limits.

 _Hyperspace_.

If he were to make it off the ship, they needed to be moving through real space, not hyperspace.

Obi-Wan swallowed back the panic that threatened to resurface. He knew what he needed to do: maneuver to the propulsion room where the hyperdrive operated, shut it off, and find the nearest escape pod.

He looked up at the ventilation system, and knew that it would be his best shot at moving undetected. Just as he clambered on top a stack of boxes, high enough for him to remove the vent grate, he heard another stampede of clones pass the storage room and hushed voices. He hastily pulled himself up, moving the grate back in place just in time.

The vents were large enough for easy shuffling. The hard part was finding the propulsion room.

Obi-Wan centered himself in the Force, searching for the buzz of the hypermatter particles and radiation that always accompanied the hyperdrive. He followed the humm of turbulent energy until he reached a sharp and cavernous drop. The mechanical whirl of the propulsion system was unmistakable.

Holding his breath, the Jedi Master jumped, plummeting through the shaft and using the Force to slow and lighten his descent until he landed several levels down on top of another grate. He kicked that one through, and landed loudly in the fortunately empty propulsion room.

Sirens continued wailing from outside the walls as Obi-Wan approached what he assumed to be the hyperdrive motivator, the essential component of the ship’s entire propulsion system. It glowed and shook with energy.

The thing was that Obi-Wan was no mechanic. Anakin was, and once again, at the thought of his Alpha, dread crawled its way in his heart.

I don’t like it, Anakin had said, and Obi-Wan wished dearly that he could have foreseen what was to come. Now, he was hurtling through space aboard a ship full of hundreds of his once loyal comrades who were now set on killing him.

 _Alone_.

He swallowed and ran his hand over the large hyperdrive motivator. There were dozens of buttons, functions unbeknownst to the Jedi, at the base of the machine. He didn’t have time to fiddle with it, and, perhaps not thinking as thoroughly as he would have expected out of himself, raised his lightsaber and plunged it into the hyperdrive.

The effect was immediate, and Obi-Wan knew because the ship lurched, gears and pistons creaking to a halt, and for a horrifying moment it seemed as if gravity was suspended before his body was suddenly and violently thrown across the room into another contraption. He cried out, his voice cracked and broken as he had suspected. He collapsed to the cold floor, pain bursting everywhere.

His body refused to cooperate for a minute, but he didn’t have a second to waste. He had made his location known.

He pulled himself to his feet, groaning and moaning.

Turns out, he was too slow. As he stumbled into the corridor, he was faced with two troopers, whom Force signatures he did recognize.

_Boil and Waxer._

They raced towards him, and Obi-Wan took off in a dead sprint in the opposite direction, dodging their blaster bolts. He passed by a fire alarm and pulled it, activating the sprinklers and fire barricade doors, which slid and cut the corridors into segments. Only a few had the override passcodes, Cody and him.

However as the barricade wall slid across between Obi-Wan and Boil and Waxer, a lone bolt escaped through the crack, striking the Jedi square in the shoulder. He gasped and almost dropped his lightsaber.

Despite the water falling all around him, the wound burned and his muscle spasmed.

He shoved the pain in the back of his mind as he quickly and consecutively unlocked each barricade door. The torrents of water muddled his vision, and his robes and tunic sagged with the weight, but kept moving aft of the ship.

_He needed to keep moving._

There were escape pods posed all around the ship, and he hoped that with the guidance of the Force, he would find an unguarded one.

Obi-Wan didn’t believe in luck, but he sure was fortunate that the escape pod was in fact unguarded. He clambered inside of the small, round, ship, clipping his weapon back to his waist and clutching his injured shoulder.

He closed the hatch and slammed on the eject button, tumbling when the pod was thrusted into deep space.

He could hear his blood thrumming through his veins, rushing with adrenaline.

_A transmitter, he needed a transmitter…_

He found the simple device and began punching in Coruscant’s coordinates. He was just about to hit enter when the pod veered and faltered.  
Of course, they were firing at him.

Then, panic really did rise in him. He couldn’t send a transmission to the Temple, man the guns, and pilot the pod all the same time.

Before, he could make a fated decision; however, the pod’s stabilizers were hit and the world was turning upside down as the ship pitched and rolled.

Obi-Wan found himself tumbling with it, and then something was slamming into his head, and he was out.

“I don’t know why _I_ have to accompany you to this fancy reception is all I’m saying,” Ahsoka grumbled. “It wasn’t my decision to—how did Master Kenobi put it?” She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, and with her best Coruscanti accent, said “Entertain politicians.”

Her Master looked at her amusingly and shook his head. “Obi-Wan said you needed to catch up on your studies.”

She balked as they walked (Ahsoka more so dragged herself) towards the Senate reception room. “Master, please explain to your poor and confused padawan, how in Sith-hell this is ‘catching up on my studies’!”

“First of all,” he began, side eyeing her. “We’ll be in polite company tonight, so I would watch your language—”

Ahsoka gasped. “You hypocrite, and I would hardly call this ‘polite company’. Senators are some of the scummiest people I’ve ever met. The only exception is Padmé because—”

“Second of all,” he pressed on. “Knowing how to engage with politicians is essential for Jedi. Even Obi-Wan, who hates practically all politicians, knows how to be charming and charismatic when he needs to.”

Ahsoka pouted. “I’m charming, so charming that I don’t need to even study for it. It comes naturally. What I should be studying is thermodynamics and history, those two topics are kicking my ass.”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin said warningly.

She raised her hands in abdication. “Okay, yeah yeah yeah. No swearing. I’m on it, Skyguy. But if I fail my upcoming exams, I’m blaming you.” She pressed her pointer finger into his shoulder for emphasis.

“I’ll help you study. Don’t worry.”

“You’ll help me study?” Ahsoka repeated incredulously. She scoffed. “No offense, Master, but I think I need Master Kenobi for this.”

Anakin laughed. “He is the smarter one,” he acquiesced. The words were surprisingly soft and far off, and Ahsoka looked at her Master worryingly. He was staring down at his boots in deep thought.

As a beta, she never really understood all that mumbo jumbo between omegas and alphas. Sure, she has definitely felt _desire_ before, but the way that Anakin talks, thinks, dreams about Obi-Wan was something else, something beyond desire, something more than love. Almost like a continuous longing and yearning.

It was intense.

And would have given her the heebie-jeebies, if it wasn’t at least a tad endearing.

She could understand why her Master was so enraptured with Obi-Wan, and she was shocked that she was the few to actually recognize their relationship for what it truly was. Obi-Wan was kind, patient, yes—charming even—, and a most capable Jedi. Him and Anakin were like two sides of the same coin, different but also so inextricably linked.

She bumped Anakin’s shoulder with her own, jarring him out of whatever he had been thinking.

“Don’t look so gloomy, Master. These politicians are like sharks—they can smell blood. And anyway, Master Kenobi will be back soon, and you’ll be defending the Galaxy side by side once more.”

“It’s been two days, and he could be gone for at least a month, Ahsoka.”

“All the more reason to cheer up! Especially now that I see Chancellor Palpatine up ahead.”

Anakin squared his shoulders and at least attempted to put on a facade of good and positive energy. The Chancellor descended a spiral staircase to the right, already accompanied by a rather large entourage of officials and advisors.

Anakin smiled as they approached the Chancellor, and Ahsoka attempted to do the same, but she was sure the old man could see right through her. They bowed in respect, and the beta resisted the urge to shudder.

If her senses were correct, Palpatine was the scummiest of them all.

“Anakin,” the Chancellor greeted familiarly, and the Togruta girl hated how friendly the two appeared. “I’m so honored that you could accompany me.”

“The honor is all ours.”

Palpatine shifted his gaze to Ahsoka, a question in his eyes. “And who may this be?” he said, not unkindly.

Ahsoka answered for her Master, bowing again shallowly. “Padawan Ahsoka Tano. It is a pleasure to meet you, Supreme Chancellor. I am glad that I am able to accompany you as well.”

He studied her for a moment, and Ahsoka made sure she held her chin high and refused to cower in his presence. He hummed when he was finished, and turned towards the reception room, whose doors were wide open, band music softly playing and Senators already mixing and mingling.

“The more, the merrier. Come along now.”

The reception was buzzing, but did seem to quiet down with the arrival of the Chancellor. Heads swiveled on their necks to catch a glimpse of the man, and before long, Senators were flocking at the man, shaking his hand, complimenting his policy, and requesting a private audience. Palpatine reveled in the attention, and Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

Quite a few acknowledged Anakin by his side and engaged him in conversation. It was amazing how mature her Master could be when he was trying. He answered questions about the war and Separatists vaguely, and questions about the Jedi Council even more vaguely, but still somehow knew how to capture an audience.

She blamed it on his good looks: wavy blonde hair, dangerous blue eyes, and a rugged scar to match. Senator Pamlo of Taris was practically making heart eyes at him.

After almost an hour of conversations with so much political jargon they simply went over Ahsoka’s head, she slipped away, eyeing an abandoned hors d'oeuvres table.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Ahsoka sang, piling her little saucer plate high with snacks and settling herself in a corner.

She was glad than in a room of people constantly vying for acknowledgment, their eyes simply skimmed over her.

 _Maybe Master Skywalker was right_ , Ahsoka mused. Entertaining politicians certainly was a task, and for how charming Ahsoka claimed to be, she certainly did not have the patience to engage in mindless and superficial chatter.

Perhaps if the Senators were just as concerned about their reputations as they were about their planets’ wellbeings, the Galactic Republic wouldn’t have found itself embroiled in a war.

She shrugged as soon as the thought came. She didn’t have the patience to ponder the origins of the war either. All she wanted to do was end it.

As she stuffed her face, the only politician that Ahsoka actually hoped to see approached her, clad in a soft, pink satin dress with elegant lace trim.

Ahsoka quickly swallowed her food. “Senator Amidala,” the beta greeted the omega warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

The woman smiled. “Please, just Padmé.” Her hair was done up in an intricate and gleaming headdress that Ahsoka found hard to ignore. “I had hoped Anakin would bring you along, but I was surprised to not see you by his side.”

Ahsoka huffed. “I’m not cut out for this politician stuff,” she answered truthfully. “I needed a break.”

Padmé’s small smile broke out into a full grin. “I found you for that exact reason. I couldn’t bear to hear Senator Jebel talk about himself for a moment longer.” The Omega distastefully looked at the crowd before them. “We should be in committee meetings, not at receptions, sipping champagne and stroking each other’s egos.”

Ahsoka couldn’t agree more, but needed to change the conversation.

“Have you talked to Anakin, yet?”

Padmé shook her head. “He’s quite popular at these things. It’s so hard to get in a private word. And anyways, I prefer him when he’s not in the vicinity of the Chancellor.”

Ahsoka cleared her throat. “I hope I’m not getting too personal, Padmé, but I had heard some rumors that...you and Anakin were once involved.”

Now, Padmé was laughing, and Ahsoka’s cheeks burned slightly.

“Well, I suppose the rumours are true, but that was years ago. It didn’t work out.”

Ahsoka placed her saucer on a moving server’s plate. “May I ask why?”

“Oh, Anakin is much too intense for me, and I feared that I wouldn’t be able to give him the time and effort he clearly desired. Our two duties would pull us away from one another. I’m glad that with Obi-Wan, they are constantly besides each other. Speaking of which, where is Obi-Wan?”

Ahsoka groaned, perhaps too impolitely. “The Council sent him away on a solo mission. He’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

Padmé grimaced. “How is Anakin dealing with it?”

“How you would expect him to deal with it. He’s so lovesick, it’s almost gross.”

Ahsoka looked out into the crowd and for the first time in over an hour, saw Anakin alone, the Chancellor nowhere in the sight.

“Well, if you want to get in a word with Anakin, he seems free for the moment.”

Padmé followed her gaze. “Oh! Splendid. Thank you, Ahsoka. I hope to talk to you soon.” They bowed, and then the woman was disappearing into the crowd.

Ahsoka watched her go, and, after stuffing her face, was suddenly craving fresh air. The room was stuffy with perfume, cologne, and unmasked pheromones. Her stomach churned uncomfortably.

The thing was that Ahsoka hadn’t spent much time in the Senate building before, and soon found herself lost among the twisting and turning grand hallways. Her boots echoed softly against the white marble floors as she stared up in awe at the curved, painted ceilings and the extravagant chandeliers and lights.

The Temple was certainly expansive but minimalistic, paling in comparison to the Senate in regards to splendour and ostentatiousness.

She hoped her Master wouldn’t notice her absence. She told herself she would be back before the Chancellor was expected to give a concluding speech and raise a toast.

If she was able to figure out where she was.

Ahsoka turned another corner and stomped her feet—a dead end. The beta was about to turn around once more, but stopped, chills running across her forearm and hairs standing on edge.  
The Force was buzzing.

And Ahsoka heard voices, hushed and hurried whispers.

Anakin would have to wait longer.

The Togruta creeped down towards the end of the hall, all too conscious of her hitched breath and tap of her toes. There was only one door, slightly ajar, begging her to lean in and eavesdrop. She knew she shouldn’t have, but her gut was saying something else.

It was Chancellor Palpatine’s voice that drifted to her ears. The door was only cracked, so she couldn’t peer in, but she heard perfectly.

“What do you mean ‘he escaped’?” the man hissed, voice almost guttural. It was a far cry from his usual light accent. “You had one simple task and you failed miserably.”

The returning voice was filled with static and much harder to decipher, so the girl leaned in closer.

“He was able to board an escape pod, sir. However, we know what planet he has crashed on. I have already sent out teams to finish the job.”

Ahsoka slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a horrid gasp. That was Commander Cody’s voice, and who was “he?”

“See that it gets done. I need a body. Skywalker will refuse to believe his precious Kenobi is dead if he doesn’t see those lifeless eyes for himself, and if Kenobi is able to make contact with anyone on Coruscant…”

Ahsoka’s knees went weak. Cody and the Chancellor were conspiring to murder Master Obi-Wan? It didn’t make sense. She couldn’t believe these words.

“The traitor will be eliminated,” Cody declared. His voice was unmistakable, but it sounded strange, robotic and cruel. “I assure you, Darth Sidious.”

_Darth...Sidious?_

_Force, Darth Sidious._

Ahsoka stumbled back, eyes wide with horror. The Sith Lord they were seeking was Chancellor Palpatine? Were all the Clones on his side or only the 212th? And what of Master Kenobi?

Ahsoka needed to tell Anakin. They needed to bring this information to the Council.  
But then the door was swinging open, and the Force was seizing her body and dragging her in, a pained cry escaping her lips.

She collapsed to the floor on her knees. The Chancellor—no, Darth Sidious—looking callously down upon her. The darkside of the Force swirled all around him, like a black hole, and Ahsoka was astonished that he was able to hide such hideousness and hatred in plain sight.

“Don’t think I didn’t feel your presence, little girl,” Sidious growled. “I know a pest when I see one.”

Ahsoka couldn’t move. Her body was locked in place, paralyzed. She refused to let the Sith see her fear.

“You won’t get away with this,” she spoke, voice steady. “Master Kenobi is far smarter than you think, and Anakin would never let anything happen to him.”

Sidious cackled. “I’ve already gotten away with it. Skywalker won’t know anything that is about to come his way...and neither will you.”

The Sith pressed his thumb against Ahsoka’s forehead, and she felt the evil infiltrate her mind, tear it open, and blunder it for all of its contents.

She screamed.

It was the throbbing and persistent pain that aroused Obi-Wan from unconsciousness. He awoke with a broken and discordant groan.

As his eyes fluttered open, all he saw were blurry shapes, melting into one another, amorphous and bleeding around the edges. He believed he slipped into the cold darkness of sleep at least twice more before he fully emerged into consciousness, vision clearing and senses sharpening.

The first thing he saw was glass, glass all around him, jagged edges looming above him, crushed and glittering pieces dusting the floor, sharp and thin spikes breaking into his skin.

He was no longer tumbling through space. His body laid half out of the destroyed escape pod like a discarded rag doll.

Obi-Wan knew, even through his muddled thoughts and pounding headache, that the right side of his body had taken the brunt of the impact, his arm to be exact.

He rolled over to give it relief, and cursed when he couldn’t move it. From his damaged shoulder to his fingers, his arm didn’t move, and when he dared to look down, the sight terrified him.

The bone had to be shattered for how swollen and blue his skin was. The cloth around the limb of his ripped and shredded tunic was tight and constricting.

_Not good, not good at all._

Obi-Wan was sure he had other injuries from the crash as well: garnish cuts from the shattered glass, purpling bruises everywhere, and a concussion. His arm was the most concerning, and he needed help.

Of course, when he gained the strength to pull himself to a sitting position, he discovered that not only was the transmission system destroyed but the first aid supplies had been lost among the mess.

His only comfort was that his lightsaber, his life, had remained clipped to his side. He held the weapon in his functional hand for a long moment, feeling the thrum of energy of the kyber crystal within, steadying his breath and settling his mind.

When he reclaimed his wits, Obi-Wan burned with a new purpose.

He needed to get back to Anakin.

He could only pray that something similar wasn’t happening elsewhere, to other Jedi, to Ahsoka, and his love.

The Omega dragged himself from the wreckage, having to stop every so often when the world titled and he was certain he was going to pass out.

When he rolled onto soft, wet grass, he smiled. Wherever he had landed, it didn’t appear to be desolate. There was sunlight, trees, and faintly he heard the buzz of insects and the chirping of birds. Perhaps, there was a town nearby, and the thought alone had him clambering to his feet and stumbling along.

He had relied on the Force thus far; hopefully the Force would continue to guide him.

And it did.

He limped as the trees gave way to a clearing and the edges of a simple but busy village. All kinds of species roamed, so it was impossible for the Jedi Knight to discern what planet he had crashed upon.

He accumulated more than a few stares, so he pulled the hood of his cloak up, hiding his bruised neck and face. His clothes were more than a little torn and bloody though, but nothing could help that.

The Jedi Master didn’t know who to approach or if any of them were friendly to the Republic and the Order. He could be walking in Separtist territory for all he knew, battered, bleeding, and so obviously a Jedi for those who had seen one before.

He found himself in a market, covertly scanning the stalls for anything of use to him. When he caught sight of a human mechanic selling old parts and devices, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Excuse me, do you happen to have any holoprojectors or communicators?” Obi-Wan asked and immediately grimaced. His voice cracked and broke on every syllable.

The shorter human male looked at him curiously before shrugging and rummaging through his storage.

“Have you seen this man?” a familiar voice said from behind him, and Obi-Wan stilled. Daring to take a quick glance behind himself, he was proven right.

Three clone troopers, the orange lining their armour glaring, stood at the opposite end of the market, holding a datapad out to a woman, no doubt with his face on it.

They were looking for him.

When he turned back around, the man was staring at him with a new expression, his own eyes darting to the clone troopers not too far away.

“You’re in trouble, my friend?” The words were whispered and non-accusatory. Obi-Wan hesitated but slowly nodded.

“On the run alone?”

Obi-Wan nodded again.

The man looked once more over to the clone troopers, who were now talking to someone else and scanning the market.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he had the strength or energy to fight again. His dominant arm, the arm he used for duelling, laid at his side, unhelpful and broken.

The mechanic hummed as if carefully considering something.

“I have an old holoprojector back at my shop if you’re that much in need.”

The Jedi Master recognized an olive branch when he saw one and furiously nodded. The man smiled, yelled something to the person manning a stall next to him, and beckoned for Obi-Wan to follow.

“It’s just down this road, my friend,” the man reassured. “May I ask your name?”

“Ben,” Obi-Wan lied without a second thought. The man smiled but didn’t offer his name in return.

The shop was in fact just down the road, and the stranger ushered Obi-Wan inside the dimly lit and messy building. The door swung heavy behind them, but the knowledge that he was being hunted didn’t leave him.

In truth, it rattled him, made him feel like a caged animal.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan wheezed.

The man waved his hands and motioned for the Omega to sit down on a lone stool. “I’m glad to be of service. You seem a little beat up.”

Obi-Wan gave a short laugh. That was an understatement. He was infinitely glad however that the stranger didn’t ask too many questions, seemingly not curious at all why he was being sought out by Republic troops.

The man was rifling through drawers, most likely looking for the holoprojector Obi-Wan had requested.

“May I ask what planet this is?”

“Sullust,” he answered, pulling out a box and padding over to the Jedi. The name didn’t ring any bells.

The stranger fiddled with the lock for a moment before holding it out in front of Obi-Wan. The Omega wanted to cry out in relief. He could call Anakin, hear that warm voice, and know that help would be on the way.

His left hand shook as he opened the box’s lid.

It wasn’t a holoprojector.

It was a collar.

“Um—”

Then as if it were alive, the collar leapt out of its confines, wrapping itself around Obi-Wan’s neck, and the Jedi collapsed to the floor, clawing at the metal of the collar and his bruised skin.

The Force was gone. He couldn’t feel anything. He was blind.

“What is this?” Obi-Wan panicked. “What did you do?!”

The stranger smiled. “I’m about to make a whole lot of money.”

Then he raised his leg, and the world went blank again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment and let me know your thoughts!! 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing in Ahsoka’s POV and J hope you did too!
> 
> What do you think will happen next?


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, writing this chapter was a bit of struggle and I don't know if it came out as a initially imagined it :/  
> regardless, I hope you enjoy! This took me a little longer to post because sadly I am back in school with a new and harder semester :(
> 
> warnings: violence, suggested threats of non-con

Ahsoka stirred awake, a pitiful groan falling from her lips. The first sensation she recognized was a splitting pain across her skull followed closely by a numbness and heaviness in her bones. She kicked away her sheets and blankets, suddenly feeling claustrophobic and trapped.

The world was spinning, but Ahsoka was able to lift her head and take in her surroundings. Her bedroom loomed before her, exceedingly normal, even in the dim light. Her door was slightly ajar, and the familiar image scratched something at the back of her mind. The remnants of a cruel voice reaching out to her, beckoning her forward, slithered in her mind before dissipating in the next second, like a dream forgotten and lost.

This wasn’t making sense.

Why was none of this making sense?

She remembered frivolous gowns, champagne flutes dangling from perfectly manicured fingers, boring and monotonous conversations, and then _nothing_. She was alone in a sea of Senators one moment, and then in the next moment, gone.

She reached forward, forcing herself to think beyond that reception room, but when she imagined herself amidst the swirling skirts and soft jazz music and walking towards the exit, there was no exit—only four solid walls encasing her. There was no outside, only in, and when she laid her hands upon said wall, she bolted up, crying out and clutching her head.

She stumbled from her bed, tripping briefly when her feet tangled in the sheets, before pushing open the ‘fresher door and kneeling over the toilet, expelling all the contents of her stomach. Ahsoka gripped the edge of the toilet lid with her trembling hands as she heaved and heaved.

When the nausea finally dissipated and her headache had receded to a dull throb as opposed to a splitting pain, she gathered herself, flushing the toilet and washing her sweaty face and mouth in the sink. She felt incredibly gross, and her reflection in the mirror revealed a stunningly haggard appearance, but her strength was slowly returning even though confusion still lingered.

Bracing herself, Ahsoka opened her bedroom door, flinching at the light, but relieved to see her Master, even though he was pacing back and forth, a pinched expression worrying his face. He halted at the sight of her, some relief washing through the Force bond that was still clouded with anxiety.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin breathed, walking over towards her and resting two hands—his were shaking as well—on her shoulders. “I was so worried when I heard, and I could feel your pain so distinctly through our bond.”

Ahsoka nodded. Anakin’s words washed over her, but nothing sparked familiarity.

“Padmé was here actually just a moment ago.” He laughed a little sheepishly at this. “She knew she was technically not supposed to be here, but she was so adamant on seeing you. She even stayed through the whole night.”

“The whole night?”

Anakin swallowed. Up close, the beta could see the darkness circling his eyes. Had her Master even slept?

“Yeah, the reception was yesterday afternoon. You’ve been out for almost a day.”

“Out?” Ahsoka repeated distantly.

If possible, Anakin’s expression became even more worried. “Yeah, a senatorial guard found you passed out in an unused Senate office room. What were you doing there anyway? I thought you were fine, if not a little bored, but then I felt this searing pain, and Force, I was so worried.”

Ahsoka stepped away from Anakin, nibbling gently on her bottom in lip concentration. She didn’t want to worry her Master even more. She smoothed her expression and shrugged.

“I guess I just wanted to get some air, and I found the closest empty room. I don’t remember passing out—”

Anakin opened his mouth.

“But, I feel fine! I mean I have a small headache—.” _Perhaps she hit her head on the way down? No, that didn’t make sense. She had no bump or bruise._ “I feel okay, Master. I probably just needed some rest, like you actually. Did you even sleep last night?”

Ahsoka patted herself on the back for the smooth diversion in conversation. Anakin looked at her wearily, but didn’t press any further.

“I couldn't sleep,” he confessed, and Ahsoka began to think that the Alpha’s anxiety not only stemmed from his concern for her but for something else as well. “Nightmare.”

The Togruta turned fully towards her Master. He was rubbing at his eyes as if he was trying to wipe away painful images.

“Nightmare...of what?”

She had spent many restless nights with Anakin in many different star systems on countless missions. Sometimes, they were afforded separate living spaces, but all too often she found herself cramped in too small tents with too many people.

Anakin was silent with his nightmares, but sometimes was unable to stop horrifying pictures from leaking through their bond, and they roused her from sleep as well. She never asked him about them; it remained an unspoken, fragile topic between them. Master Kenobi was often there to soothe him and coax him back to sleep, so Ahsoka tried to not let herself worry too much.

The Omega wasn’t here though, off somewhere in the Galidraan system.

“It was of Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered. He began pacing again, running a hand through his unruly hair. “He was in pain, and he was c-calling for me. He was alone and hurting, and I couldn’t do anything. _Force_ , he was so scared, Ahsoka.”

“It was just a nightmare, Master. I’m sure Master Kenobi—”

“ _No_ ,” Anakin said with such force that it almost had Ahsoka taking a step backwards in shock. “It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a vision, the same type I had of my mother before...before she…”

Anakin didn’t need to finish. She knew what he was hinting at.

“And when I woke up, I-I couldn’t feel him. I still can’t feel him, and I fear the worst has happened.”

Ahsoka’s headache came back almost full force at the thought of Obi-Wan, and she had to grip the arm of the couch to steady herself. There was something itching at the back of her mind, something on the tip of her tongue…she was at the edge of a precipice but something was holding her back and she was reminded of those smooth walls encasing her in, trapping her.

She wanted to be reassuring, but Anakin’s current worries were only vindicating her previous uneasy feeling when Master Kenobi had notified them of his solo mission.

“He’s far away, Skyguy. It’s normal for the bond to fray.”

“Yes, _I know that_. But it’s almost like it's been severed. The strands of the bond were thin and hard to reach before, but they are not there anymore.”

There was another painful silence as the gravity of the situation settled.

“Commander Cody would have said something by now if something had gone wrong, especially if Master Kenobi was injured gravely. We have to trust in him,” Ahsoka said slowly, doing her best to emulate Obi-Wan and remain calm in the face of uncertainty. “Perhaps, the Council will disclose their coordinates, so we can contact the _Negotiator_ ourselves.”

The beta was sure that Anakin’s Alpha instincts were all over the place now, and the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw were obvious signs of his attempt to keep himself together.

He nodded.

“We’ll do that.”

Obi-Wan had been blessed as a child to have such a natural and strong connection with the Force.

He sank easily into meditation and found immense comfort in the warm, fuzzy sensation that was brought on once one was able to sync their own Force signature with the grander Force that swirled around them and within every living thing.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was his favorite within the Jedi Temple, located at the heart of the compound and somehow amplifying the hundreds of Force signatures within, luring Obi-Wan to enmesh himself further. He had not been to the sanctuary in quite some time, but the trickle of the waterfalls and the overwhelming serenity were hard to forget, but now the familiar glow and hum of the Force were almost impossible to recall.

For the billionth time since Obi-Wan had roused from unconsciousness, he fiddled with the collar around his throat. Not only was the skin bruised from Cody’s callous hands and death grip, but now scratched and bloody. The piece of smooth metal almost burned, and unconsciously Obi-Wan’s single, functioning hand would come up and absentmindedly scratch at the delicate skin, seeking reprieve from the suffocating device.

The prison he was in was nothing like the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Instead of smooth and cool granite, Obi-Wan curled himself upon icy and chipped concrete. The Room of a Thousand Fountains reflected light and projected brightness, this place—wherever he was—was like a black hole, dark and muted, only the scampering feet of rodents and cockroaches bringing him company.

He couldn’t sense any other Force signatures around him, and it truly felt like he was blind. The Jedi Master would have easily traded his sight for a return for his connection to the Force. At least then, he would have felt the small but present glow of Anakin, on the other side of the Galaxy, but without it, a feeling akin to hopelessness and bitterness settled in the pit of his stomach.

He was not only without the Force, but also without his lightsaber, his responsibility and his life. He remembered a time, years ago, chasing the changeling who had threatened Senator Amidala’s life in Coruscant, and pressing that saber into Anakin’s palm. _This weapon is your life,_ he had said, and his padawan had dutifully nodded and understood.

Now, Obi-Wan was here, trapped between four concrete walls, so enclosed in that he could barely stretch his arms, and the heavy metal door served as a sharp testament to his condition.

_No Force, no kyber crystal, and no obvious way out._

_Failure, failure, failure._

His arm continued to throb painfully; the pain was the only thing keeping him from spiraling into the darkness of self-loathing. His robe was gone, giving him a grotesque view of his purpling and swollen arm. Fortunately while he was out, someone had managed to bandage his blaster wound and apply some bacta gel to his shoulder, so he at least did not have to worry about any serious infection.

Obi-Wan picked at the blood caked underneath his fingernails, willing himself not to scratch at his already slightly mutilated neck. He tried to think of Anakin, but as much as the images of his mate were comforting and distracting from his current situation, they were as equally heart wrenching. _Force_ , he longed for his Alpha.

And meditation was off the table; he couldn’t even connect to the Force to release his emotions, and they continued to build and build and build until Obi-Wan found himself rocking back and forth, clutching his knees to his chest, and gasping for air.

_It was all too much._

When the heavy metal door finally slid open, it could have been minutes, hours, or days, all conception of time had escaped him. He didn’t even realize the presence of another, until a food nudged him roughly, and the Jedi was blinking. His eyes were wet; had he been crying?

Two large figures stood over him. They weren’t human: gray skin, large eyes, sharp teeth, and horns. Obi-Wan assumed these were the native Sullstans (if he were still on the planet and the mechanic hadn’t lied to him).

They muttered something to each other in a language Obi-Wan couldn’t understand before tossing him a pair of boots, gloves, and goggles. All of the equipment looked worn and used, covered in a thick layer of soot.

The Jedi Master expected some grand speech, explaining his situation and flaunting some elaborate scheme, but one just huffed, “Work begins tomorrow,” and then they left.

Obi-Wan knew that despite the Galactic Senate’s best efforts, slave labor still existed in the far reaches of the Galaxy. Anakin was evidence of that. Their reach was not infinite, and their sway over certain star systems, especially in the midst of a war, was tentative at best. Slavery thrived in the chaos as a result.

Being sold into slave labor was not how he expected any of this to go, but the business was lucrative, and he knew the most vulnerable— _the poor, abandoned, children_ —were often exploited with the thought that no one would go searching for them.

Hours later, when the metal door to his small prison slid open, he hoped that Anakin was searching for him.

He must know that something was wrong by now. It was the only thought that kept panic from seizing the Omega again.

With the door now open, Obi-Wan was better able to gauge the situation. Hundreds of beings of all different species poured out of their rooms into a larger hallway where they were shepherded roughly forward by the armed Sullustan guards. Those who moved too slow were jabbed with electrostaffs, and if they collapsed, a sparkling electrowhip came down, and if they still didn’t move, their limp body was hauled off to who knows where.

Obi-Wan followed the crowd.

The hallway was crowded and reeked of waste, vomit, and other extrements. Heads hung low, feet shuffled, and barely any words said besides the rough commands of the guards. They all marched down and down until the smooth, concrete walls dipped down into the rough texture of a mine shaft.

It was hot, tight, and the air so obviously contaminated. Shovels and equipment were passed out and shoved into hands.

Obi-Wan had to bite down painfully on his lip to keep from crying out as his broken arm was jostled and pressed against. He had been able to squeeze one of the gloves on and put on the googles; he didn’t even try with the boots.

Most seemed to know what they were doing. Others looked as confused and lost as Obi-Wan felt.

They were there for hours, working, shoveling, carting, and picking away at the mine’s walls. Like before, those who worked to slow or collapsed or complained or caused any sort of disturbance were punished or dragged away. There were no stops for breaks or food, and by the time they were ushered back to their prisons, Obi-Wan’s muscles burned with exhaustion and he thought he might collapse from dehydration.

All of the days were like that, blending into each other— long, brutal, and monotonous. Food was distributed sparingly, no medical aid administered, and very little time allocated towards rest, and even then, sleep rarely came.

One day, an older Twi-lek woman leaned over, hand tightly encircling his left wrist and whispered, “Don’t let them figure out that you’re an omega. You’ll get sent to a place much worse than this.”

Obi-Wan, paralyzed by the implication, couldn’t even ask her questions. She turned her back and got back to work.

Back in his cell, he worried about this, wondering how the Twi-lek knew, hoping that his suppressants wouldn’t fail him now, of all the places to be stuck in.

He tried to strategize means of escaping, but after more than a week, it was getting harder and harder to hold a coherent thought. His untreated arm had continued to swell and was so tender to the touch that a hard shove by one of the guards had brought him to his knees in agony. He was able to gather himself before anything else happened, but the next day, the pain was so unbearable, he couldn’t move.

Obi-Wan groaned as the door slid open. He lifted his head, but his vision began to tilt and swim. He turned over on his side and vomited.

He felt sick, hot, and _Force_ , his arm was on fire.

He attempted to sit up again, but his vision completely blacked out, and by the time he opened his eyes again, two guards were looming over him. A heavy boot came down on his side, followed by a quick and sharp command he couldn’t decipher. He couldn’t hear them over the blood rushing in his ears.

There was another kick, and Obi-Wan cried out. He knew he needed to get up, but he _couldn’t_.

An electrowhip came down hard on his back, and he seized with the force of it all, muscles tightening and cramping as electricity racked his body.

  
Another command.

Another lash.

Obi-Wan heard a voice, broken and pained, and realized it was his, saying something along the lines of no stop it, please.

He had never begged before, but the guard was relentless and more lashes came down in quick succession.

When it all stopped, Obi-Wan wasn’t even able to breathe a sigh of relief. His body trembled and seized in the aftershocks. One guard knelt down and gripped the Jedi’s chin in hand, inspecting him.

“Too bad,” he tsked. “You were new too.”

“Should we dispose of him?” the other, brandishing the whip, asked.

The first one hummed, still inspecting Obi-Wan’s face, eyes lingering on the collar wrapped around his throat. Obi-Wan wondered if they even knew he was a Jedi, if they knew the purpose of the collar. He supposed he was at least a little bit fortunate that they probably didn’t. Being turned over to Separatist forces would somehow be worse.

The guard’s curious eyes descended lower, analyzing the rest of his battered body, and it was horrifying knowing that he was pondering whether he should kill him or not. Obi-Wan should be saying something, attempting to charm himself out of this situation, but his body and mind were beat.

He thought of Anakin, of curling himself into the solid, warm body

He knew must have hit his lowest when he felt the sting of tears.

A hand settling on his thigh had him jolting, the touch was neither painful nor rough, almost softly appraising. The guard leaned down and sniffed the juncture of Obi-Wan’s neck, and the Jedi knew he had been found out when a devious glint lit up in the Sullustan’s eye.

“ _You little faker,_ ” the guard whispered before turning to his colleague. “He’s an omega doped up on suppressants.” They laughed callously at this, and he was reminded of the Twi-lek’s warning.

“We’ll get these flushed out of his system and sent where he belongs.”

  
  


The headaches didn’t cease for Ahsoka.

They came and went like the ebb and flow of a current, sometimes rising with such an intensity that it had the padawan stumbling and reaching out to grasp anything for support, but sometimes fading into a dull throb that was almost possible to ignore.

Anakin was worried, and it seemed like each day his anxiety grew and festered. He begged and begged for Ahsoka to visit the Halls of Healing, and when she finally did, the healers weren’t able to do anything for her.

They took her vitals, asked her questions, made her perform tests, but they couldn’t find anything wrong. She dragged herself back to the quarters, more frustrated than she came, locking herself in her room and falling into a restless sleep.

She dreamed of that Senate reception room, lost among the gowns and throngs of people, encased in those four walls with no way out. She banged and kicked and slashed at the neatly painted walls to no avail.

She would wake up panting, mind about to split in two.

One morning—or was it afternoon? (the days had begun to bleed in together)—after dragging herself out of bed and making herself a warm cup of tea (she didn’t even like tea, but Master Kenobi always raved about it), Anakin stormed in.

“Come with me,” he beckoned, and Ahsoka abandoned her half-drinken cup of tea to follow her Master. She didn’t ask any questions as Anakin led her through the winding corridors of the Temple, outside, and past the sprawling courtyards, where she caught sight of a few younglings laughing and playing with each other in the freshly cut grass.

“The Room of a Thousand Fountains?” Ahsoka questioned as they walked through the glass paneled doors of the complex.

She knew of her Master’s aversion to meditation, and the Room of Thousand Fountains was fashioned to be a sanctuary to facilitate thoughtful and deep meditation.

“Obi-Wan used to take me here all the time to help guide me through meditation,” Anakin commented. “I always had so much on my mind and could never silence my thoughts. He helped me.”

This past week, everytime her Master mentioned Obi-Wan, there was almost an air of sadness tinged with it. The Council had refused their request to contact the Negotiator based on satisfactory mission updates that gave no indication of anything going awry. Anakin had argued that his inability to feel for his Force bond with Master Kenobi should be reason enough, but Master Windu brushed him off, reasoning that Obi-Wan might have had to shield off their bond for mission purposes.

Perhaps that was why they were here? To better reach out to Master Kenobi through the Force even the Jedi Master was on the outer stretches of the Galaxy.

The trickle and soft rush of water all around them was already easing the throb of Ahsoka’s headache. It was if the Force was magnified in this place, a pulsing and comforting presence.

They eventually settled in the center of the room, sitting across from each other, legs folded neatly in front of themselves.

“And we are here because…” Ahsoka led curiously.

Anakin gently took her hands in his, and she immediately felt the flow of his Force signature brushing against her own.

“Obi-Wan used to suffer from migraines on the occasion. He said meditation always helped him, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

Ahsoka swallowed nervously. “And you’re sure that is a good idea?”

“It can’t hurt.”

Ahsoka would beg to differ but perhaps feeding off of Anakin’s strong signature would help her. She nodded and closed her eyes, sinking into the warm feeling of the Force.

They were there for a long while, slowly steadying their breath until their inhales and exhales synced, until all the outside noises faded into oblivion, until it was just their Force signatures, so entangled that Ahsoka couldn’t find where hers ended and where Anakin’s began.

She danced through hundreds of memories before the beta found herself back in that Senate reception room, palms resting on that wall. For some reason, she couldn't move past this particular memory even if she used all her strength and concentration. It was like a block.

Subconsciously, she could feel Anakin’s hands tighten around her, and she knew he could feel and see everything she could with just as much clarity.

This time, it felt as if the walls were closing in on her. The reception guests were gone, and she would have felt alone, stranded, if not for the constant presence of Anakin. She pushed against the walls, but they were unrelenting and she stumbled back as the room shrunk until it was only a little more than a cube, a cage.

  
She gasped, eyes flying wide open as she was thrust out of the previously tranquil state. Her headache had come back full force, and from the expression on Anakin’s face, she knew he could feel just as well.

“This is useless,” Ahsoka lamented.

“ _What was that_?” Anakin asked, and Ahsoka hunched her shoulders sheepishly.

“I don’t know. Ever since that Senate reception, I’ve felt off. I keep dreaming of being trapped in that room. I feel _stuck_ there.”

The Alpha digested the information silently as the padawan continued. “I honestly don’t even remember leaving that room. I don’t remember feeling sick. I don’t remember fainting. The only thing I recall is talking to Senator Amidala, and then I just woke up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“You were already so worried, Master.”

Anakin sighed, taking Ahsoka’s hands back in his hands. “This is more than just a headache. We are going to do this again, and I want you to really concentrate on that day.”

Ahsoka wanted to refuse, but the Jedi Knight was adamant, so she relented.

Her eyelids fluttered shut once more, and the same walls materialized around her. This time however, she felt the strength of Anakin’s Force signature surge through her, almost too powerful, almost overwhelming.

She pushed against the walls again. The pain was still there, lingering around the corners of her mind still but this time bearable. She could endure it.

With a steadying breath, Ahsoka pushed harder, grimacing when pain exploded behind her eyelids like lightning, but then suddenly she was falling through the air and collapsing onto soft red carpet.

_This was familiar._

She rose onto shaky legs, feeling a distinct pull from _somewhere_. She led her feet carry her, not knowing where she was going but trusting in the pull.

She ambled down the grand Senate hallways, quickly finding herself at a dead end, a lone door slightly ajar.

Somehow, Ahsoka knew this was what she was looking for. She opened the door, and like a flood, all the memories rushed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know your thoughts :)


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> USHUAIAHA, yo, I’m sorry.
> 
> I’m a poor humanities major currently being beaten up by two STEM classes, so I’ve been busy and stressed and have not had time to myself so I have taken some time to write this.
> 
> I wanted this to be longer and finish this up but that would have meant another 2-3 weeks with exams and other stuff, so I have added an additional chapter. 
> 
> Please enjoy :))))))

“The Sith Lord...is Chancellor Palpatine,” Mace Windu concluded solemnly, lips pursed in concentration and barely contained anger. “Master Kenobi had warned us years ago that Dooku had confessed that the Sith Lord was controlling the Senate...it was irresponsible on our part to not more carefully analyze this warning, even if we thought Dooku might have been lying.”

“Fooling all of us the Chancellor has been, existing undetected by both the Order and the Senate,” Yoda mused, head shaking sadly. “Pulling the strings he has been for quite some time.”

Anakin clenched his hands tightly, fingernails digging painfully into his palms, but the pain grounded him, kept him from lashing out, from screaming, igniting his lightsaber and destroying anything in his vicinity, anything in his path.

He was going to kill Palpatine, kill him for making him out to be a fool, kill him for constructing a _Sith_ _compulsion_ and implanting it in his padwan’s mind, letting it tear at the seams, and most of all he was gonna kill him for _trying_ to kill his mate. 

He knew Obi-Wan was out there; his mate had escaped. Anakin still felt the yawning abyss of where his Force bond with Obi-Wan had tapered off, but a spark of hope had been ignited. He was going to end Palpatine, a man who he had once thought of a friend, a close confidant, but who had been in fact engineering his fall, and had plotted to use his one love to tip him over into the darkness. 

Anakin had hurt the ones closest to him because of his oversight, his blindness, and ignorance. 

The Alpha rose from where he had been seated before Mace Windu and Yoda. Ahsoka looked up at him wearily. 

“I’m going to finish this,” he announced, expression shadowed and blue eyes winking dangerously. 

Mace rose as well. “You’re not going anywhere yet, Skywalker, and you’re especially not going to confront Sidious yourself.”

“Of course I am, and you can’t stop me,” Anakin nearly growled, the need for vengeance welling up in him by the second. “After all what he has done to me? After all what he has done to Obi-Wan?”

“ _That_ is exactly why you cannot confront him. You’ve made yourself and those around you a target. You’re too close to this. Palpatine—Darth Sidious—has been playing you like a puppet, _harnessing those unchecked emotions of yours to architect your downfall_ , and _now,_ you’ve even roped Kenobi into this. This is why the Order forbids attachment. It will be used against you like a weapon.”

Anakin scoffed, but it was Ahsoka who jumped up and came to his defense. 

“That is _not_ why the Order forbids attachment, Master Windu, and you should know that. The Order, _wrongly_ , forbids of attachment because of the false notion that love and emotional connection leads to possession and greed which then leads to the dark side, but attachment doesn’t do that, and the Jedi centuries before us welcomed attachment—”

“Padawan Tano, don’t you dare lecture me about the dangers of attachment or Jedi history considering the type of predicament we are in. We have a rogue battalion of clones, a missing Jedi Master, and a Sith Lord playing pretend as the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.”

“But—”

“Enough.”

It was Master Yoda who spoke, and all heads turned towards him. “Enough,” he reiterated. “All of you.” The Grandmaster nodded towards Mace. “Right is Master Windu. To face Palpatine you cannot, Anakin Skywalker. Swirls around you, hate and fear. Tap into and exploit that dark energy, Sidious will.”

They were mad. All of them were mad if they honestly believed he wouldn’t be the one plunging his saber into that old man’s abdomen and watching the light fade from those eyes. 

“Acting unilaterally, the Order cannot. Trustworthy Senators and allies must be approached. Patience we must exercise.”

“ _Patience_?” Anakin spluttered. “We have all the evidence we need, and the longer we stand around, the more uncertain Obi-Wan’s future becomes!” 

“Obi-Wan can handle himself,” Mace said flippantly. “And it is telling where your priorities align when the fate of the Galaxy is hanging in the balance, and you’re worrying about the _entirely wrong things_.”

Anakin thought he might have attacked Mace if Ahsoka wasn’t once again stepping in to defend him. “There is a real chance that Master Obi-Wan is injured in need of help. Should we not be worried?”

“The time to be worried for Kenobi is after all of this is resolved. Palpatine is no longer a concern for _either of you._ You are tasked with figuring out how in _Sith’s hell_ was Palaptine able to turn a whole battalion of clones, who are programmed to be loyal, against their commander. You are both off to Kamino, as soon as possible.”

“But—”

“For all we know, all of the GAR is compromised. You must complete your mission with utmost secrecy. I will see to it that Palpatine is dealt with.”

Anakin and Ahsoka looked towards Yoda, who only nodded in agreement with Mace’s words. 

A dismissal, and a blunt one at that. 

Seething with anger but recognizing he wouldn’t be able to sway Master Yoda and Mace any which way, Anakin stormed out of the Council room, black robe billowing behind him. Ahsoka was immediately at his shoulder, anxiety rolling off from her in waves, colliding with her Master’s already awful mood, the anxiety, fear, and hatred twisting into something entirely awful. 

“Perhaps Master Windu is partially right,” she began slowly, making sure no one was in earshot. 

Before Anakin could unfairly snap at his padawan, she hastily explained herself. “There is a real possibility that the GAR is compromised, and if all the clones turned against their commanders and the Jedi...the effects could be catastrophic. I believe Kamino should be our first priority.”

Anakin slowed his furious pace. It was difficult to rationally assess the intensity of Ahsoka’s concern when his instincts were still consuming him. _He needed to protect his mate, above all else_. However, he couldn’t help but ponder what Obi-Wan would want, what Obi-Wan would tell him to do.

He was suddenly reminded of a time at the outbreak of this entire war, during the battle of Geonosis, when Padmé, who he had been so infatuated with, had fallen out of the gunship and similarly his instincts had roared at him to drop everything and come to her aid. 

Obi-Wan had grabbed him by the shoulder, and had _implored_ him to do what Padmé would have done. 

_Her duty._

As much as it pained him, Ahsoka was right. Obi-Wan was right. 

He needed to fulfill his duty. 

“Meet me in the hangar in twenty minutes. We are heading to Kamino, but I’m bringing one other person with us.”

  
  
  
  


Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how long he floated in and out of consciousness. He had welcomed the blissful darkness for some time, glad to be able to escape for a brief respite from the pain that reverberated throughout his body. 

It was always the pain that he noticed first as his muddled brain arose from slumber. His arm had virtually gone numb, something he would have worried about under any other situation, but in this case, it almost seemed like a blessing. It was searing pain from the electrowhip that now occupied the forefront of his mind, eclipsing the hollow hunger pains and the sensitivity of the bruises now darkening across his ribs and stomach.

It was a sharp pain that made itself known everytime his body was twisted, turned, and jostled. He was vaguely aware of being moved and transported somewhere else, hopefully somewhere far from that dreaded labor prison. 

Eventually, his awareness sharpened just enough for him to discern his surroundings, and a crushing sense of deja-vu descended upon him—four concrete walls enclosed him on all sides. Only this time, he wasn’t sprawled across the cold floor; he was strapped to a bare cot, feet chained together, and unbroken left arm tied securely to a leg of the cot. 

The Jedi Master rolled his eyes. It seemed like he just couldn’t catch a break. 

He averted his eyes to his other arm and raised an eyebrow. It was wrapped tightly in gauze from shoulder to fingers. He wasn’t sure how helpful that would be, but at least it indicated that his new captors cared to a certain degree. 

_New captors._

The Sullustan had promised to send him to “where he belongs,” and there were only so many places that plenty of races and species within the Galaxy thought were deserving of an omega’s presence. 

Kadavo, Zygerria, and Kessel were just a few of the planets that came to the Omega’s mind. He had been warned from a young age to never traverse through those star systems, even for missions, rumors and horror stories had circulated through the Temple for a brief time about the endless crimes committed against omegas gone unpunished, omegas forced to keep their eyes low with collars signifying ownership tight against the base of their throats, and countless omega slave houses.

And now, he had been found out, and the implication of all of this was certainly not lost on him. 

He would have definitely preferred the tortuous treatment of the labor prison guards to whatever fate laid before him. 

Now, he had been humiliatingly dressed down, clad in only a small pair of shorts and a thin shirt. He felt exposed, vulnerable. 

Just as Obi-Wan was testing the strength of the chains, the door to the room slid open, and this time he was greeted by a Sullustan and a human man. 

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” the human said kindly as if Obi-Wan wasn’t currently being held here forcefully. “I think the IV fluid we fed you for some time must have helped a bit, but I’m sure you’re still thirsty and craving some real food.”

The dryness of Obi-Wan’s mouth and throat could have rivaled the deserts of Tattotine, but he didn’t say a word, and it seemed as if the human didn’t expect him to. 

The Sullustan rolled in a cart behind the two, and the door slid shut with a sharp hiss of air. 

“You were beaten up quite bad when you were first brought here, which only makes things more difficult _for the both of us._ Unfortunately, we don’t have the best first aid supplies here, but once you get healed up, you’ll be getting to your final destination.” 

The man smiled brightly, and the positivity and nonchalant attitude almost had Obi-Wan’s blood boiling. The Jedi decided to speak then. 

“Final destination?”

The man only gave the Omega a pointed look that essentially said, _you already know._ His hands plucked a syringe and vial filled with a light blue liquid from the cart, smile returning. 

“This is just something to help you relax,” he commented placatingly, shaking the contents briefly before plunging the needle into the vial and filling up the syringe. “Please, don’t make this too hard for me, or our friend over there is going to have to step in.” The man nodded over to the Sullustan, and the threat was clear. 

It didn’t stop the wince when the man grasped the juncture of Obi-Wan’s elbow, roughly feeling for the vein. The Jedi watched helplessly as the needle broke his pale skin, and he cringed at the pressure of the fluid flooding his system. 

The man hummed gleefully before his eyes drifted towards Obi-Wan's neck. “At least, they collared you already. Most of our clients enjoy their omegas collared; it reminds them of who’s in charge.” 

The human laughed as if it was the funniest joke.

Obi-Wan digested that information carefully. It didn’t seem that the human knew he was a Jedi, and perhaps that would work in his favor. 

The man lifted another vial from the cart, and Obi-Wan wanted to ask what it was but the whatever drug he had been administered was fast-acting, and his words came out slurred and jumbled. The man laughed again. 

His brain felt fuzzy and a little floaty, but he was still aware enough to protest weakly as once again the syringe was plunged into his arm, another unknown drug being pumped into his body. 

“We’ll come back later today for your second dose. You’re on some heavy suppressants, but they will be flushed out soon. Nothing to worry about.”

Obi-Wan watched with blurry vision as the two left, leaving him alone once again. 

  
  


Anakin had visited Kamino only once when Separatists forces had launched an attack to stop the production of additional clones for the GAR. 

It was just as he remembered, rainy, dark, and windy, the turbulent waves crashing against the stilts of the above-water facilities. The rain pelted him, Ahsoka, and Rex as they trudged against the gusts of wind threatening to blow them over. 

It was perhaps not the smartest move to divulge the entire situation to Rex. He, like all of the clones, were now under suspicion. The 212th were currently under the control and orders of Palpatine—who was to know that the 501st wasn’t similarly compromised? 

Regardless, Anakin had the inkling that he needed as much support as possible, and he trusted Rex with his life. 

A painful thought crashed into him then; Obi-Wan, too, had a rather special relationship with Cody. The betrayal his former Master must have experienced was unfathomable, and perhaps Anakin was being naive. 

But the shock, surprise, and disgust that had registered across Rex’s features when Ahsoka and him revealed the 212th’s betrayal was genuine, and both Jedi had felt the sincerity through the Force. Whatever had unfolded this past week had occurred without the Captain’s knowledge, so either Cody had kept his closest friend in the dark about his true alliances or something even more nefarious was at play. 

They were greeted at the door by a lone Kaminoan. “Master Skywalker and company,” she said neutrally, neither surprised, worried, nor expecting. “I was not aware that you would be making a visit, but your presence is of course welcomed. I am Zirli Tu. Please come in.”

The three, soaked to the bone, stepped into the white halls of the facility. 

“How may we be of assistance?” Zirli Tu asked, voice characteristically flat and devoid of any emotion like most Kaminoans. 

“We are just here for a routine inspection as requested by the Galactic Senate. I hope that we won’t be too much of a bother.”

Zirli Tu bowed her head in understanding before turning and beckoning them to follow her. “I will accompany you through our facility. You will find everything is in working order, and our production rates remain high.”

Zirli Tu ushered them through the expansive and intricate facilities, including the Central Armory, the DNA room, where the DNA samples of Jango Fett were housed, the Egg Lab, the Embryo Room, and the Genetic Records Hall. It was strange watching a conveyor belt of developing embryos zoom by, and even stranger to realize that every clone he had worked beside, had been created here, in this sterile, cold lab. 

Anakin studied Rex curiously, gauging the Captain for any sort of reaction. He had grown up here, but the Jedi wasn’t quite sure if he considered Kamino his home or if there were any positive feelings associated with the water planet. 

As usual, Rex’s face was carefully guarded, if anything, a little tense. 

Ahsoka frequently asked questions all to which Zirli answered truthfully and succinctly. When the Kaminoan stopped them across a balcony overlooking an indoor training facility, Ahsoka began to pester her with even more questions. 

“I was always so curious on how the troopers are raised to view Jedi?”

“All of the clones produced here are created to be unfailingly faithful towards their respective commander and his or her orders. It’s written into the copied DNA samples and taught as soon as the clones enter training.”

“There are no exceptions?” 

Zirli tilted her head at this, large black eyes blinking slowly. “What do you mean?”

“Are the troopers ‘programmed’ to follow any hierarchical structure that could potentially override a Jedi’s order?”

Another blank stare before Zirli Tu slowly said, “Technically, yes. Our clones are taught to follow their chain of command, but of course are still capable of using their discretion. We want them to be faithful but also free, critical thinkers.”

“And at the top of the chain of command? The Jedi Council? The Senate?”

“The Supreme Chancellor.”

Ahsoka hummed thoughtfully. “But they are still able to use their discretion? They would never—oh I don’t know, let’s say—be able to be forced to do anything against their will?”

“Here in Kamino, we have thought of every conceivable situation and have prepared appropriate contingency plans,” she answered vaguely, and _now,_ Anakin’s interest was piqued. 

“And some of those situations and contingency plans possibly involve overriding a clone’s free will?” he asked. 

“Only...in extreme cases, and only by the highest authority.”

_The highest authority being the Supreme Chancellor,_ Anakin filled in accordingly. 

“What are those extreme cases?”

Zirli Tu smiled at them. “I believe that concludes our tour. I hope you found everything up to your standards, Jedi.”

The avoidance of such a question was jarring, and Ahsoka threw Rex and Anakin a pointed look.

“I was actually hoping that we can meet up with Prime Minister Lama Su before we depart. It was such a long trip here, and we were hoping he could answer some more questions for us.”

Zirli Tu clasped her hands tightly together. “My apologies, Jedi. Prime Minister Lama Su has been busy all day with important meetings. He will not be available for some time.”

“I—”

“Please, let me escort you all out. I am looking forward to seeing your report on our fine facilities.”

Ahsoka seemed like she wanted to say more, but Anakin subtly shook his head to deter her. Zirli Tu briskly escorted them back out into the storm, wishing them a safe trip back to Coruscant and disappearing back inside, back rigid. 

“That was weird, right?” Ahsoka practically screamed over the roar of the rain and thunder. 

Rex and Anakin enthusiastically agreed. 

“We’re going back in there, and we are going to find what exact conditions have to exist to turn a whole battalion rogue,” Anakin declared. 

  
  
  


The drugs weren’t potent enough to knock him out, but instead had what seemed to be calming agents that had Obi-Wan going limp and pilant, all worries and anxieties slipping free from his mind for some time. 

He no longer worried about his situation, about whether he was going to be found, about his best escape plan, or what they were going to do to him. The man and the Sullustan came back twice more to pump more drugs into his body, and the fear of being forced into an early heat no longer scared him. 

He felt a little warm, and his body a little sensitive, but even those two feelings were hard to distinguish when all he felt was _floaty_. 

Eventually, he would come down and awareness would seep back in, and when that did happen, he panicked, breaths coming too fast and too hard, and with nothing and nobody to help him slow the frantic pace of his hyperventilation, dark spots and stars filled his vision until he ultimately blacked out completely. 

When he roused once more, Obi-Wan was able to maintain a semblance of calm somehow, fueled with a renewed determination. 

He was able to sit up after some initial nausea and swing his chained feet over the side of the cot. There was no way he would be able to break the chain that tethered his unbroken arm to the cot, and while the cot itself wasn’t exactly heavy, there was no way he could put up a fight tied down with his other arm still broken. 

Luckily for him, the cot was old and the leg of the cot groaned and squeaked when he pulled at it lightly. The chain binding his ankles had a little slack, enough for him to stand, raise his foot, and deliver a well placed kick to the joint. 

The leg snapped, the cot collapsing to its side, and Obi-Wan’s arm was essentially free, the chain still attached to the manacle around the wrist and the leg of the cot, but if anything, now he had a handy weapon. 

His ability to run would be severely impeded but his chained ankles, so he would have to fight. The human man was his size if not smaller, and the Jedi made the bold assumption that the man had no formal fighting experience or training given his build. 

He had to worry about the Sullustan, who potentially towered a good foot above Obi-Wan, and had claws and fangs to worry over. 

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan wasn’t able to worry for too long or formulate even the backbone of a plan because the door was hissing open once again, and he was face to face with the human, who no longer harbored that friendly smile. 

“What are you—”

The Jedi didn’t think; he swung the leg of the cot, aiming for the man’s temple and watched with satisfaction as he crumpled on his side, out cold. The satisfaction didn’t last long because the Sullustan was _right there_ , and Obi-Wan was scrambling for the cart just as the Sullustan was tackling him down. 

He saw stars briefly as he landed on his shattered arm, the first sensation, he had registered from it for a while. The cart tipped over, and all of the supplies scattered across the floor. 

The Sullustan was pulling him into a headlock, but Obi-Wan fingers were curling around a discarded syringe and vial. It was a fifty-fifty chance what the drug was going to be, but when the Jedi plunged the needle into the thigh of the Sullustan, and merely seconds later, the Sullustan went slack, eyes glazed over and far off, he knew he had picked up the right vial. 

Finally, something had gone in his favor. 

He didn’t have time to spare, so Obi-Wan crawled over towards the unconscious man, plucking the key card that had been clipped to his waist. With the key card, the door opened at his request revealing an empty, sparse hallway.

He shuffled out as fast as he could, in search of an exit. 

**Author's Note:**

> please drop a comment, let me know what you think!!1


End file.
